


Starcrossed

by JuweWright



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Ceilidh Dancing, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Dancing, F/M, Inspired by Romeo and Juliet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 07:17:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13542441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuweWright/pseuds/JuweWright
Summary: At a masked ball at Minerva McGonagall's estate, Draco Malfoy falls in love with a mysterious woman.Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" and JKR's universe collided and had a Baby: This is it.Story was written for the Masquerade Fest of the "Dramione Fanfiction Forum (18+)" Group on FB





	1. Chapter 1

“I did not have any idea that you felt this way, Mister Potter.”

It was a lovely day in September, and Professor McGonagall and her former pupil gone Auror Harry Potter were walking along the neat hedgerows under the red and yellow-leafed trees at the back of the McGonagall estate. When Harry had first come here, about five years ago, he had been surprised to find his former headmistress to be the heiress to such a vast amount of land and such an old and imposing house. She had smiled at him and explained that the McGonagall clan had once been quite influential back in the days. The old lady was the last of her line though. She had never had children, and so the family history would end with her. After her retirement, she had mainly stayed here. She loved the countryside and preferred it to the bustle of London or even Glasgow. Sometimes, her former colleagues came to visit, and she enjoyed her regular whist evenings with Professor Sprout. 

Since she had not been able to manage all the finances and the upkeep of the house, her eyesight had become worse over the years, and she felt that it became much more tiring to organize a dozen things at once – she had reluctantly put a notice into the Daily Prophet that she was looking to hire a well-mannered young witch or wizard who was skilled in arithmancy and would – next to managing the estate – be happy to keep an old teacher company. She had been a little surprised when not even a day after the note had been published; Miss Granger had appeared on her doorstep to ask whether the position was still vacant and whether she could apply for it.

Since that day, Minerva McGonagall and Hermione Granger both lived in McGonagall House. They met at mealtimes and sometimes they planned an evening of conversation together. But apart from those occasions they only ran into each other in the library or the green house. McGonagall House had more than thirty rooms; it was well possible to stay out of each other’s way. The former teacher and the young witch had formed a strong bond over the years and as Hermione still stayed in contact with some of her classmates, Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood and two of the Weasleys, Ginny and George, had become regular visitors to the grounds. Minerva was happy to see how they had grown up into adults, some of them starting families of their own and raising the next generation of Hogwarts students.

It had been a while ago that Professor McGonagall had set her mind on making Hermione her heiress, and Harry Potter’s reveal of his feelings for his friend had come unexpected. The old witch mustered the dark-haired man with a frown. There was nothing that betrayed he was playing tricks on her. So he must be serious about this. But how had she not noticed anything before? She must be getting old. And how unfortunate it would be if Miss Granger were partial to her suitor’s idea because it would mean that she’d probably move to London with him. And who’d look after the estate then? It was all very inconvenient. Yet, Potter was a favourite of hers, always had been. And if he really was in love with Miss Granger, he should have his chance.

“Do you have any idea whether she returns your feelings for her?” Minerva enquired.

Harry shook his head.“I never asked her. I never dared to. We’ve been friends for so long, and I fear that if I tell her that I love her and she doesn’t feel the same way, I will lose her as a friend. I couldn’t bear that. She’s always been there for me.”

They walked for a few paces without speaking, then a sudden smile appeared on the old woman’s face.

“I have an idea,” she exclaimed. “And I think it might work. As you know, I have been holding an annual ball in this house since I retired. Well, how about this year we make it a masquerade, and you can try to win Miss Granger’s heart in disguise.”

Harry laughed.“That’d be too easy, professor. She’s known me for ages. She’ll recognize my voice. She’ll recognize my hair and my movements. We’ve lived in a tent together for months when we were looking for the Horcruxes. I bet she could recognize me from the sound of how I brush my teeth.”

A sly grin appeared on McGonagall’s wrinkled lips.

“Well, Mister Potter. You are a wizard. And as a wizard you should know a thing or two about transformation even if you weren’t the best student in my class back in the days.”

“But Hermione will never agree to go to the ball with a stranger. She’s been living as a recluse ever since the war ended.”

Professor McGonagall chuckled.“I promise you, Mr Potter, she will go to the dance with you. Let that be my task. Yours will be to win her heart in one night – or give up your suit.”


	2. Chapter 2

Blaise was lecturing Draco about his obsession with one Luna Lovegood whom he had been pursuing for quite a while although the woman was clearly completely disinterested in any relationship, let alone one with a former Death Eater. They were both sitting in Blaise’s newest toy, a brand new night-blue Porsche Cayman and as usual, Blaise had decided that the speed limit signs only applied to muggles and losers. Draco was frozen in terror in his seat and – sadly – unable to escape his friend’s rant.

“You can’t seriously still think you might one day win her heart! If she has a heart, it’s never going to spare a single beat for you. If there had been the slightest chance that she’d ever feel anything but indifference – or even hatred – towards you, it’s long passed! You’ve been running after that girl for how long now? A year?”

“Fourteen months, six days” Draco murmured.

“And you’ve made a right fool out of you! You wrote her a freaking song! A song! And she still didn’t melt like butter! That girl’s properly lost for good, Draco!”

“Could you please focus on the road? At the speed you’re going I’d much prefer not to collide with a tree.”

“You’re trying to get me off-topic.”

“Because you don’t understand a thing about love, Blaise. You’ve never really been in love. You’ve pretty much shagged half of the female wizarding population plus a huge amount of muggles, but you have absolutely zero insight into romance.”

“Man, you need to open up your mind to new horizons.”

“I was told Muggle-weed is quite excellent for that?”

“For what?”

“For opening up your mind.”

“Are you gone completely crazy now?”

“Yes, I am crazy, because I am struck by cupid’s arrow when it comes to Luna. It’s quite stuck in my chest, and it stings. Her turning the cold shoulder is like starvation, as if someone constantly had food in front of them but could not reach it or touch it but always see it and smell it.”

Blaise sighed and turned up the radio that was blasting the newest number by the Arctic Monkeys. Although being a wizard had its advantages, muggles just produced much better music.

Just when he looked up again, something crashed into their windshield. Blaise immediately stepped on the brakes and the Porsche skidded to a halt.

“Well, fuck!” he noted, seeing the smear on the glass.

“What was that?” Draco asked, his face white as a sheet. “And where the heck did it come from?”

Blaise opened his door and stepped out of the car to have a look around. It only took the two men a few minutes to find the owl at the side of the road. The animal was dead. Very dead indeed. It didn’t look as if it had been hit by a car. It looked much more as if it had had an unfortunate encounter with a kitchen blender. And it was still clutching a letter in its claws. Blaise pulled the official looking envelope out of the dead bird’s grip and produced a small, expensive-looking pocket knife.

“Merlin’s beard. That poor owl!” Draco murmured, then realized what his friend was doing.

“You can’t just read someone else’s letters!”

Blaise shrugged.“Well it’s not going to get delivered anyway, is it? Ohhhh, look how fancy!”

He turned the paper around so Draco could read the content that had been scrawled in green ink onto the heavy parchment.

“An invitation to Professor McGonagall’s annual ball. Charmed, so it opens the gates to the estate on the evening of the event. How very convenient”, Blaise mused. “Taking place on Saturday two weeks hence. I bet you, Luna’s invited. She’s part of the DA after all. So we should go there, and you can compare her to so many beauties that in the end, you’ll hopefully see she’s not worthy of the pedestal you put her on.”

“If that were the case I’d be an idiot. Nobody can outshine Luna.”

“You work alongside her and sometimes don’t see another female face for weeks. I think you’re mighty biased, my friend. Come along to the party, and I’ll prove to you that in direct comparison, she’s just a plain Jane.”

Draco shrugged in resignation.

“All right then. I’ll come along but only to watch my fair Luna be the queen of the dance.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

The gate to the McGonagall estate was a huge wrought iron portal, forged by the same blacksmith that had made the Hogwarts gates. Usually, they were protected by a charm that let an alarm go off in the house anytime someone entered unannounced, but tonight, Minerva had asked Hermione to alter the enchantment slightly. People or groups of people who were carrying one of the invitations in their pockets were able to pass through the gates without any effect while any unwelcome intruder would be caught by a tiny whirlwind and unceremoniously dumped into the huge fountain behind the house. Even though Professor McGonagall had aged, she had not lost her sense of humour.

Three distinct pops were heard, and the next moment three men in long dark cloaks were standing in front of the gates. One of them had very light blond hair; one had the slightly darker tint and the black hair that betrayed his Italian heritage. The third boy, a little taller than the other two and with the build of an athlete, steadied himself for a second and took a deep breath.

“Just for the record, I really, really hate apparition”, he murmured darkly. “Always makes me queasy.”

“Theo, you are and will always be a whiny little kid,” Draco commented and playfully shoved his elbow into his friend’s side.

They looked up towards the house. The path was lit by floating orange baubles that hovered between the bushes and under the trees. It looked eerie and welcoming at the same time.

“I was told Granger’s working as McGonagall’s faithful servant these days,” Blaise commented and produced a comb from one of his pockets to sleek his black hair back. “If I hadn’t known I’d been able to tell by the light-installations. She’s gifted as hell. These things aren’t easy to pull off.”

Draco pulled out the invitation, and the three boys made their way through the open gate. They exhaled in unison when nothing happened.

“Wouldn’t have been surprised if they had put extra precautions up. Like, everybody who isn’t on the guest list gets punched in the face by an invisible troll or something like that,” Theo said.

He pulled out a mask, a golden beak that reminisced the pest-doctors in old Venice and pulled it on. His friends followed suit. Blaise wore a simple black mask that only underlined his features. Draco’s mask was a lion’s face. It covered his face from the nose upward and included a pair of stubby ears and a magnificent mane that hid his hair decently enough that it might not give him away immediately.

“Do you think they will recognize us?” he wondered.

“Well, let them take us for their best friends or their worst enemies. As soon as we notice they know who we are, we can be gone in a wink,” Theo said. “And until that happens. We’ll see how many beautiful ladies I can have a dance with and whether Blaise here can keep up with me.”

Draco flicked his wand, extracting one of the baubles from the lights and let it fly a little ways ahead of them while they walked up the path.

“I don’t know why I allowed you to drag me along to this. I would much rather be at home now,” he complained.

Theo shook his head.

“But we must have you dance!” he exclaimed and grabbed his friend in a ballroom hold, waltzing around exaggeratedly.

Draco extracted himself from Theo’s grip and straightened his mask again.

“You are the one of us who dances, Theo. Heaven knows you’ve swept about half of England’s and several  of Europe’s women off their feet with your moves. I usually just feel like an idiot when I try to move to the rhythm and I don’t think I’m in the mood to dance today. I’m neither drunk nor light-hearted enough.”

“How can you make such a fuss about such a lovely feeling as love?” Blaise enquired. “And as to the state of intoxication, I bet that house up there has a fine wine cellar, so that should hardly be a problem.”

“So is love lovely? I don’t think so. It’s way too painful” Draco explained.

Theo shrugged.

“Well if love is an ass, just be an ass back. You are pretty good at being an ass. So get that mask fixed and come with me. We’ll have a feast!”

They reached the massive staircase that led up to the main entrance which was guarded by two enchanted coats of armour who had crossed hellebores In front of it. Blaise bowed to the guards, and they nodded and stepped back allowing the three men to enter the entrance hall of McGonagall House.

The estate had been decorated with style. The same floating light-baubles from outside were hovering above their heads shedding slightly brighter, white light onto the guests in the room. Tablets with drinks were floating in the air around the room. Whenever one of the tablets only contained empty glasses, a house elf appeared and exchanged it for a new, full one. Lots of guests had already arrived, and the room was bustling with activity. People were greeting each other, laughing, clinking glasses. All of them had made an effort and come dressed for the occasion. All of them were wearing masks.

Draco made his way straight to one of the tablets and took a glass of fire whiskey from it.

“I’ll feast on drinks; you can go and dance. I’ll watch”, Draco told his friend

Theo took away the glass without a single second of hesitation, put his hand around his friend’s shoulders and steered him into the ballroom.

“Oh come on Draco. I’m not going to have you get drunk in a corner. You’re going to be a dancer among dancers tonight.”

Draco tried to get out of Theo’s grip and murmured something about “peer pressure,” then suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, as if he had seen a ghost.

“Going here seemed like a fine idea earlier on, but I think it might be a  bad decision.”

Theo frowned and lifted an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

“I just remembered the dream I had last night.”

“Oh, I dreamed something as well,” Theo said.

“What did you dream?” Draco asked, curiously.

“That dreams are nothing, but hollow pictures without sense,” Theo grinned.

“And yet sometimes dreams have proven to be better prophecies than any of the ones Professor Trelawney ever made,” Draco retorted.

Theo rolled his eyes.“Oh then I see, Queen Mab hath been with you!” he exclaimed theatrically, waving his arms.

“Theo?”

“You’ve been bewitched by fairies or veelas or both, and now you dream of truths just like all those girls. Oh God, look at that girl over there. Red hair, a figure like that and toned arms like an athlete. Can only be Ginny Weasley behind that feathery mask. Can you imagine her, lying there, dreaming?”

“Guide your tongue, she might hear you.”

“And by the end of the night, she will hear me. She will hear me, and see me and feel me and I’ll make her dream. See you later, Draco, I’ve got things to do, women to court, use those moves for the purpose they were created for.”

Draco watched him leave and had the impression that the room became dimmer for a second. He felt a chilly breeze yet couldn’t make out where it came from and started to walk among the crowds to find whether there was a way out into the garden. He did not fancy watching the dancers unless he saw Luna somewhere.

In a corner, he heard two tiny figures debate the evening’s proceedings.

“Where’s Dobby?” one house elf enquired. “He was supposed to help carry the food away.”

The other elf, slightly shorter and with a nose that looked a bit like a potato, shrugged.

“He’s probably trying to find Mister Potter. And we were explicitly told not to look for Mister Potter. Bet he’ll have to iron his ears by the end of the night for disobeying direct orders. He might be free, but this is just rude.”

A third house-elf appeared at a run and skidded to a halt in front of his two colleagues.

“Mister Longbottom just spilled his pumpkin juice over a joke Ginny Weasley made. We better clean that up before the music starts and somebody slips.”

A fourth one appeared from the sides, looking quite disheveled.

“The very sweaty trombone player in the band needs an extra towel.”

The tiny house elf with the potato-shaped nose smiled over at the dancers.

“Oh, I like evenings like this when we get to visit stately homes and see something else than the gloomy walls of Hogwarts. And look at all of the mighty sirs and ladies; they are so dashing in their attire. Let’s go get that towel for the musician and clean up the floor real quick.”

With four simultaneous popping sounds, the elves disappeared.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Harry felt odd. Of course, he felt odd. Who wouldn’t feel strange if they suddenly were five centimeters taller with broader  shoulders and lighter hair? The hair was the worst part. It had been quite easy to tame in comparison to his own hair, and it made him mightily jealous that there were really men who could wear their hair long and still look manly. He even had a proper stubble around his angular chin. Luna had been so eager to help him and probably modeled him after somebody she knew. He’d been so caught up in his excitement for the night that he had forgotten to ask her who it was. The girl was full of surprises. For the last year and a bit, she had continuously been pursued by Draco Malfoy – and constantly turned him down. They worked together at the ministry and were mainly in charge of magic-gone-wrong cases that ended the wizard or witch who’d overestimated their skills at charms or transfiguration in St Mungo’s.

“It’s not that I think he’s a bad person. He used to be, but he isn’t anymore. He is a great colleague and a good friend. He is clever, and he makes me laugh, but he just isn’t my type,” she had once said and Harry had wondered what Luna’s type was. If he had dared a guess, it would not have been broad-backed stubbly-chinned hotties with a stupid amount of chest-hair, though.

Hermione had gone for drinks. She seemed to be enjoying herself and their conversation – light- hearted small talk because Harry was afraid to blow his cover. But at the same time, she seemed completely disinterested in him. Her smile was open, her words were friendly, but she had not shown any signs that she might be attracted to him. Perhaps this whole scam was a horrible idea. After all, he wanted Hermione to fall in love with Harry Potter and not with this guy who was the result of Luna Lovegood’s wet dreams brought to life.

Professor McGonagall stepped onto a small podium at one end of the ballroom and immediately, the conversations faded, and the room went quiet. The old woman still had the presence and authority she had been known for as a teacher. She demanded respect and everybody automatically gave it to her.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!” she began. “I am happy to have you all here at my estate. I hope you will all enjoy the feast. Most of you remember a perfect Yule Ball that once was held in the walls of Hogwarts Castle. This evening, I should hope, will become its equal, if not something far more spectacular. So dance and enjoy yourselves. There’s nothing just as pleasing as some well-mannered frivolity. I hope you all enjoy yourselves tonight.”

She signaled to the musicians on the opposite side of the room, and the band started playing a quick jig. Some of the guests eagerly formed rows on the dancefloor and began to hop along. Harry saw Ginny and Neville practically storm to the front and smiled. His relationship with her hadn’t lasted for much longer than a year. They had not parted in anger, just realized that they didn’t  fit and that the circumstances might have thrown them together during the war but that ultimately, they were much better off as friends. Neville had always had a soft spot for the redhead but never acted upon it. It had come as a surprise to him (and to pretty much everyone in the wizarding community) when they started going out after meeting at a Quidditch game – and found that they enjoyed each other’s company more than ever before.

Harry drew his eyes away from the couple when Hermione appeared with the drinks in hand. She handed one of the glasses to him and took a sip from hers while watching the dancers weave through the pattern of the dance.

“Would you like to dance the next one?” Harry enquired, hoping against hope that the few transformations that Luna had worked on his outer appearance would also cover the fact that he still was a mediocre – not to say poor – dancer.

Hermione smiled at him, her eyes flashing through the mask.

“I’d love to.”

After the last chord struck, they left their glasses on one of the floating tablets that now had lined up close to the walls. Harry felt Hermione’s slender fingers in his hand as he led her onto the dance floor and wondered how the hell he had been able to be completely oblivious of how beautiful she was back in their school days.

Professor McGonagall and Professor  Flitwick were standing a little aside, watching the proceedings.

“Isn’t it lovely?” the old woman commented. “Can you remember our dancing days?”

Flitwick smiled and nodded, then held out his hand.“I’d like to think of our dancing days not as a finite term. Would you grant me the honour?”

Draco had been outside to take a breath, but when the music started, his feet had automatically found their way back to the ballroom. He wanted to watch Luna dance. He wanted to admire her grace and the strange fluidity of her movements.

Instead, another couple caught his eye almost as soon as he stepped over the threshold.

The woman was wearing a long, dark violet dress with lace-sleeves. It was understated, and yet it fit her figure so well, it stood out even against the green taffeta gown that Ginny Weasley was sporting. She was slender but had the most perfect curves Draco had ever seen. Her long brown hair was pinned up into something complicated, a few stray hairs falling down her exposed neck. But it was not her dress or her hair or even her eyes that sparkled with joy as she danced that sparked his attention; it was the way she moved. Her partner was a terrible dancer, that much was obvious from watching them even for only a few seconds. The man had two left feet – and two left hands – and his posture was an insult to humanity in general and the tux he was wearing in particular. But the woman – whoever she was – covered up all of his mistakes, followed his lead even though his lead was oddly timed and almost never on cue. She moved as if her feet weren’t even truly touching the ground. And then she laughed at a remark her partner made. It was an open, wide laugh that held nothing back. And Draco felt like the world had just tilted and the earth was shaking. He grabbed the stone pillar closest to him, took one of the fire whiskey glasses that were sitting on one of the full trays close to it and downed it in one go. The alcohol burnt his throat and cleared his head a little. A house elf wobbled by, wet cloth in hand and Draco caught the creature by the tea towel it was wearing.

“Who is that girl over there? The one who dances with the fair-haired young man?” he enquired.

The house elf flinched.

“Filly is very sorry Sir, but Filly has no idea.”

Her moves, so graceful and undeniably confident. Her posture, upright, bold. Her hair, the colour of warm, dark honey. Her eyes, gleaming through the openings in her mask, shining brighter than any of the gemstones that surrounded them. Draco didn’t know how it was possible to be smitten in an instant, lost in a moment. He had come here to watch Luna Lovegood dance and to suffer the sight of her holding other men’s hands and laughing at other men’s jokes, but from one second to the next, Luna was all but forgotten. Had he ever fallen in love before? Draco had believed so. But seeing this woman made him rethink.

“Gods,”he whispered. “She’s amazing!”

Not far away, a tall, lean, red-haired figure stiffened suddenly and almost choked on the butterbeer he had been drinking.

“What the fuck, I know that voice”, Ronald Weasley muttered under his breath. “That’s Draco Malfoy under that lion’s mask. How dare he show up at a Gryffindor event, that little ferret!”

He set his beer down on a nearby table and was about to make his way over to the blond man when he felt McGonagall’s hand on his arm.

“Where are you headed, Mister Weasley?”

“That guy over there in the tailored suit and the lion’s mask is Draco Malfoy. I am going to go over and beat the crap out of that little death eater scum.”

McGonagall tutted and raised a brow.

“You are going to do no such thing, my boy. That man over there might be Draco Malfoy, but so far he has not disturbed the peace of this party. If you make a scene, Mister Weasley, your little brawl will be all over the news. The Daily Prophet is running a feature on this night’s events, and I intend the main focus not to be on an ex-pupil from my house beating up a Slytherin.”

Ron was almost foaming at the mouth.

“But… we can’t just leave him here, let him roam the place as if he belonged here.”

McGonagall shrugged.

“I guess, Mister Weasley, as there is no civilized way to make him leave, we are going to have to endure his presence, you and me both. And if I should notice you even take a step towards him, I am going to have the house elves gag and bind you in the kitchen until this feast is over. There’s going to be no fighting tonight. I want this to be a happy party.”

Ron bit his lip.

“All right,” he mumbled, silently swearing that Draco’s unwanted appearance at the masquerade would have consequences later on.

“All right,”Professor McGonagall echoed. “And just to make sure you won’t be plotting anything terminally stupid and probably fatal to yourself, I am going to insist you dance with me now, Mister Weasley.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

There was no power on earth Draco could just stand and watch. When the fair-haired man left to grab another drink for him, and his date and the beautiful woman waited alone at the side of the room, he stepped up to her, seizing the chance in front of him. He had been brought up with the slightly traditional rituals of wizard nobility, and for some reason, he felt that right at this moment, he might finally get some use out of them. Bowing slightly, he held out his hand, touching hers ever so slightly.

“I have no clue who you are, my lady, but allow me to kiss your hand because I am smitten by your beauty and grace.”

When she didn’t pull her hand back but just looked at him astonished and a little bewildered, he lifted her fingers up to his lips without really touching them to her pale skin.

“Would you allow me a dance?” he asked when the master of ceremonies announced it was time for The Rosa waltz.

The woman chuckled a little. Draco caught himself staring at her lips, beautiful and red. He had thought she was wearing lipstick earlier on, but this seemed to be their natural colour.

“Is there really anybody left on this planet who kisses women’s hands? Or is that part of your masquerade?” she retorted.

He shrugged.

“I guess it is whatever you wish it to be.”

She chuckled again, and his brain rattled, because somehow, her laugh sounded familiar, yet he couldn’t quite place it.

“I’ll gladly dance with you. If you’re as good on the dance floor as you are with words.”

She let him lead her into the circle that had formed around the room. They took their starting position, and her eyes gleamed again. When the music started, they lifted their joined hands, waving left and right. Then Draco turned her under his arm. He had to take a deep breath when he realized how very close they were standing now: Her back to his front, hands crossed over her waist. Four steps to the left, four steps to the right. One step left, one step right and he had to let her go again leading into the right hand in right-hand balance figure. She openly laughed when he turned her twice during the position-change.

“You are a good dancer, Mister. I don’t think we have ever danced before?”

Draco shook his head. No, they definitely had never danced before, but something in his brain told him with a nagging insistence that he had seen her dance with others before and just could not place where and when.

“You dance very beautifully as well,” he responded, pulling her into ballroom hold and waltzing her around in a whirl.

This was always where you could see whether people knew what they were doing. If you managed one turn, you had a decent partner. If you ended in a jumble somewhere and had to adjust your positions to start again afterward, you danced with an average to mediocre dancer (depending mainly on how long it took them to get back into the right place). But if you managed two full turns in time with the music and had enough time to fluently get back into the first move— that was perfection.

Draco’s partner was light on her feet, and he knew how to shift his weight to manage the full two turns. When they locked eyes again under their lifted arms, both of them were smiling widely.

He turned her towards him again and somehow she was even closer this time. He could smell her hair, a flowery, airy smell, and feel her back against his heaving chest and he wished this moment would never end, this dance would just go on forever in a whirl of fateful bliss.

When they entered the waltzing-section for the third time, she opened her mouth as if to say something, but she didn’t form the words until he held her close to his chest again.

“What is happening here”, she murmured.

“I have no idea,” Draco answered honestly.

From across the dance floor, Ron Weasley watched the couple dance. A vein in his neck was red and pumping precariously. Oh yes, he was angry at Draco Malfoy – and his two goons whom he had spotted in the crowd as well – for showing up uninvited. But he didn’t step in. For once, he did not want Professor McGonagall to make an example of him, but he also felt that whatever was happening on that dancefloor between Hermione and the Slytherin was – different. It was not Draco stepping into the ring to claim a price. He would have bet that Malfoy didn’t even know whom he was dancing with. After all, he and Hermione had not met for a decade. And Hermione – she was probably just as oblivious whom she was dancing with. But – and Ron had a hard time admitting this – they seemed to be having fun and enjoying their dance. More than that – they seemed to fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

Professor McGonagall, a few meters away and closer to the punch bowl, frowned unhappily. Just like Ron, she felt that something was happening, something very much like destiny. And even though she had not liked the idea of Miss Granger and Mister Potter becoming an item, she much preferred that idea over Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy becoming such. She turned to the young man next to her.

“Mister Potter, I think it is high time you get back to the dance floor with Miss Granger,” she stated and gave him a push. “Before anything happens that we will both regret until the end of our days.”

Harry nodded and when the tune ended, he made a beeline for Hermione and determinedly but gently took her hand again, nodding towards the man with the lion-mask dismissively. To his astonishment, the stranger stepped back immediately, bowing curtly to Hermione, who seemed more than a little confused.

Draco stepped back to the side of the dance floor, trying to stop his heart from breaking his ribcage by taking regular, slow breaths. He still couldn’t draw his eyes away from the woman with the gemstone-studded mask.

She was dancing another waltz with her date now, and her partner kept messing up. He was clearly one of these types who counted to four on a three-count tune. It was painful to watch. The beautiful woman made an effort to cover for his failures but ultimately had to succumb to her partner’s total lack of skill. All the while, she kept looking over. Her eyes searching Draco’s, her smile becoming less forced every time they found them. When the waltz finished, he saw her exchanging a couple of words with the light haired man and then walk towards him. He stepped behind one of the pillars making sure he was out of sight for everyone on the dance floor. She was there a few seconds afterward, taking his hands in hers without hesitation and leaning closer to him than she had done during the dance.

“I can’t believe that this is happening,” he whispered.

“Me neither,” she responded.

“I know I shouldn’t really ask you... because you don’t know me and I don’t know you…. But…”

Before Draco could finish his stammering, she leaned forward with a blur of motion. Her lips met his with a feverish fury. They felt soft yet firm on his, and when he returned the kiss, they opened slightly. Demanding and claiming what they had both already felt on the dance floor.

“You can’t only dance, you can kiss as well,” she winked, when they stopped to take a breath.

Both of them were breathing hard. How the hell had they come here? What was happening to them?

“Who are you?” Draco asked in a whisper.

Right then, someone cleared their throat somewhere below them. They both looked down, afraid it would be Flitwick, but it was only Filly, the house elf. The tiny creature shuffled from one foot to the other as if she was well aware of the fact that she had just intruded in a very private moment.

“I am sorry, Miss, but Professor McGonagall asked for a word with you. She couldn’t find you so she told me to look for you, Miss.”

The woman sighed and pushed a stray hair back behind her ear. Her eyes locked with Draco’s again.

“Don’t disapparate while I am gone!” she said with a low voice, pressed another quick kiss on his lips and quickly walked away.

Draco watched her leave, then turned to the house elf again.

“Filly, isn’t it? Who is that woman? I know you have probably been told not to tell anyone, but I promise you, I am going to do very inappropriate things to your fluffy ears if you don’t tell me. I need to know this, and I am not going to play nice.”

The house elf’s ears drooped, and she looked at her feet.

“Filly will have to iron her fingers if she tells you, Sir.”

“Was that what McGonagall told you to do or is that your personal choice of torture? Anyways, I don’t really care. I order you to mend your fingers afterward if that is any help to you. But I need to know this woman’s name.”

The house elf nodded, giving in.

“Her name is Hermione Granger, Sir. And she is my Lady’s favourite companion.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Merlin’s beard. Of all the women I could have fallen for, it must be her, who will never forgive me for tonight if she ever finds out who I am. I should be out of here and quick.”

Draco’s head felt as if he had drunk much more than just a bit of firewhisky. Damn him, damn his life. How on earth was it possible that the woman he fell for was the one woman he would never be able to be with? She probably still hated him after all this time. How had he not realized who she was? There had been a feeling of familiarity, but he had not been able to place it. He hurried towards the door and bumped into Theo and Blaise who were also on their way out. The ball was drawing to its end, and a lot of people were heading home.

“Hey mate!” Blaise said with a grin, his speech a little slower, his tongue a little heavier than usual. “So who’s the lucky stranger you danced with?”

Draco shook his head.

“Awww, bastard! Don’t tell me you didn’t ask her! Or do you want to keep it a secret? We’re best friends, Draco! We don’t have secrets from each other. I am going to be whining for the rest of the week about Ginny Weasley unceremoniously dumping me to go back to snogging Longbottom after half a dance! And Theo’s probably going to be over eager to share the story of how he ended up behind a curtain with Emmeline Vance.”

“Hey, she’s even better than her reputation.”

“And you might just have caught something really sticky and prickly. That girl’s reputation means I’d not even touch her with a stick!”

They started walking down the path towards the gates. Theo was almost foaming at the mouth.

“Don’t pretend you have standards, Blaise. We all know you don’t.”

Back in the ballroom, Hermione returned from her brief conversation with Professor McGonagall. It had been very strange as the subject was nothing of immediate importance. She got the impression that Minerva had intended to draw her away from her new acquaintance. But why?

She returned to where she had left the lion-headed stranger behind to find him gone. Frowning, she looked around. She was sure he wasn’t the type to run off like that. He had been all gentleman-like the whole evening. He wouldn’t just leave without saying goodbye. Yet, he was gone.

“There you are!” she heard someone panting behind her and turned around to see a furious Ron stomp towards her. His mask, a simple black affair, only covered the area around his eyes and she would have recognized him anywhere anyways.

“Do you have even the foggiest idea who that guy was?”

“What guy?”

“That lion-masked rodent you’ve been making out with. Do you have any idea who that was?”

Hermione shook her head.

“That’s the whole point of a masquerade ball, isn’t it? You don’t know who hides behind the mask. It’s the appeal of the whole thing.”

“Well, appeal my ass. You just spent the whole night making googly eyes at Draco Malfoy. I thought I’d better tell you.”

Hermione gulped. Was that even possible? Draco Malfoy?

She firmly stuck out her chin.

“You know what, Ronald Weasley. I can make out with whomever I want. Even if that man had been Draco Malfoy, which I am sure he wasn’t, it’s still none of your stupid business whether I snog him or ‘make out with him’ or start rolling on the floor and making love to him right under the eyes of the whole gathering.”

She took a deep breath.

“And stop ruining ball-nights for me, Ronald!”

With this, she turned around and walked briskly into the entrance hall. She needed to be out of Ron’s side. She needed to think. She needed to find out why a pretty big part of her had already concluded n that Ron’s assumption might be right and that the lion-masked stranger had really been Draco. The way he moved had seemed familiar, and in retrospect, she could match his motions to the Slytherin boy. But she also needed to find out why that fact didn’t disturb her as much as it should have. Her heart was still racing when she thought of their dance, of their kiss. But how could she fall in love with the man when she had hated the boy he once was?

Outside, Draco was following his loudly celebrating highly intoxicated friends. It hadn’t been as obvious before the cold night air had hit them, but both Theo and Blaise were completely outdone for the night. They approached the wrought iron gate when Draco suddenly stopped in his tracks and looked back.

“What am I doing here anyway? I must be out of my mind!” he murmured.

There was no chance in hell he was walking out of this gate to pretend nothing had happened between him and Hermione Granger. He had to be sure, to find out whether she still hated him. If she did, he’d have to die in agony. But if there was even the slightest tiniest sliver of a chance for him, he had to find out and he had to find out immediately.

He made a quick U-turn and waved his wand, temporarily using a shadow-spell to become almost invisible in the darkness. Then he quickly ran off through the hedged gardens back towards the house.

Blaise looked around at his friend mid-sentence: “… don’t you think, Draco? Draco? What the heck, Theo, we lost Draco!”

Theo stopped as well and tried to pierce the darkness by opening his eyes as wide as he could, then shrugged.

“He’s probably already disapparated straight to Malfoy Manor. We should do the same.”

Blaise shakes his head.

“I don’t think I heard it crack. You know that apparating crack? Also, don’t think you can apparate inside the gates, but might be wrong about that. Well, I am not going to apparate home. Way too drunk. I’d splinch myself… or throw up in my own front yard and thank you very much I don’t need my house elves to pester me about one more bad thing I did this month.”

Theo shrugged.

“Well if he ran off…” he murmured, then stood back, craned his head and bellowed: “Draco you moron, you eejit, you fool for love, come out immediately and finish this party with your two best friends like a civilized person!”

They waited for a few minutes, but Draco didn’t show up.

Blaise sighed and put an arm around his friend’s shoulders.

“Come on, let’s go down to the village and see if we find a pub that still serves some drinks to a pair of fabulous gentlemen like us.”

Hermione wanted to say goodbye to her date. She had not found the stranger annoying or boring. It would have been a good night even if she hadn’t accidentally stumbled into Draco Malfoy. So yes, the stranger deserved her thanks for being her date and Minerva deserved thanks for assuming he’d be a good companion for her. She’d not been wrong. Destiny had struck, but there had been nothing wrong in this guy’s actions. She found him in the hallway where he was queuing for the floo network and walked up to him right when the clock above the fireplace started to chime midnight. And the man - began to blur. His shoulders sagged a little, became narrower. His hair seemed to be retreating into his scalp, and his posture shifted. And when she had reached him. and he turned around as he sensed her presence, he had fully transfigured back into her best mate Harry and was blushing nervously.

“Harry?” she uttered, utterly befuddled.

He nodded.

“Well, yeah.”

“How?” she was lost for words. “Why? Who?”

The last question was quite an interesting one. Hermione was familiar with Harry’s transfiguration skills: He lacked the talent to do a spell like this. He had had help! But why had he done it in the first place? Why had he not just asked her to the ball as himself? She’d gladly have gone with him.

She told him all of this and he just sighed, took her hand and walked her back into the ballroom and through the doors into the garden.

“Listen,” he said. “I wanted this to be a special night. I wanted to… I mean, Hermione, we have been friends for such a long time, and I know you see me more as a brother than anything else. But… I have feelings for you, Hermione. Not just brotherly feelings. You are the most beautiful and clever woman I know and I just… I hoped that if I changed my outer appearance, you might just see me differently, see my character differently, and fall a little bit in love with me as well. Professor McGonagall had that idea. I didn’t even think of it. You know I am not clever. I got through all of this trouble in school because you were there to help me. And Luna helped me with the spell. She was brilliant. Giddy really. Told me, she had read a muggle fairytale just like this. I know, it comes as a surprise and I know tonight didn’t go the way I hoped it would go, but…”

He suddenly started fidgeting and pulled something from his pockets, before kneeling down in front of her.

Hermione closed her eyes for a second. This wasn’t happening. None of this was happening. She’d wake up in the morning and this whole messed up night would have been a dream.

“Hermione Granger, will you marry me?”

She stared at him as if he had just turned into a pumpkin.

“Please tell me this is not actually happening!” she exclaimed.


	7. Chapter 7

Draco made his way back to McGonagall house as the sky began to turn from charcoal black to dark blue.

He walked around the mansion thinking about what to do next. There was probably no way he could get inside again with the two coats of armour guarding the entrance. But perhaps he could sneak in if he came from the backyard.

He had just made his way through a huge rose garden when a light appeared on one of the balconies. It was another floating orange ball, and he immediately recognized it as Hermione’s work even before she stepped outside now without the mask and with a sweat-jacket thrown on over the ball gown..

“There she is. Oh if she knew I was here,” he thought. Yet, what would she think if she found out who he was? And how had he not recognized her earlier? Would it have helped? Would it have changed any of the things he was feeling now?

She sighed and frowned unhappily. Draco wondered what she was thinking and what had happened to make her so gloomy after she had been smiling all night.

“Damn.”

“Oh, what is she saying? I didn’t think I’d be able to hear her this far. And did I just hear Hermione Granger swear?”

He drew a little closer, staying in the shadows so she wouldn’t notice him.

“Draco Malfoy. Of all people. Draco Malfoy, ex-death eater, Slytherin, heir to a father I hate, nephew to an aunt whom I don’t even want to think of because it gives me nightmares. How the hell did I just fall for a Malfoy, who was once my enemy and who could never get accepted by anyone who knows and loves me? Damn. Why couldn’t it be someone else? Or why can’t I be just any other plain Jane who isn’t seen as a heroine by the wizarding community, who isn’t under the surveillance of a million eyes? If we could cast away our names and our stories, just be who we are now, without a history, it would be so easy.”

Draco couldn’t listen anymore. His heart was pumping wildly, his blood rushing through his veins. With just a few sentences she had dispersed all of his fear. He burst out of his hiding place exclaiming:

“Then call me anything you want, call me your lover, and I’ll happily throw all of my heritage away and give up my status and my history. Let’s run away and hide somewhere, live as muggles for the rest of our lives!”

She had rushed to the balcony’s railing at his first words and now leaned over looking both excited and terrified.

“Draco…” she hissed.

“Don’t call me that! You just said, my name is a problem. So call me Frank, call me Joe, call me anything.”

“You can’t be here. McGonagall will hear you…”

Draco had to admit that she had a point.

“ _Muffliato,_ ” he said, whisking out his wand and pointing it at the back door. “Problem solved. And if she sees me, I don’t give a toss. I’m not afraid of the old hag. I am not going away unless you tell me to.”

Hermione chuckled a little, then forced herself to be serious again.

“She’s not going to be happy about it… I think she knows you attended the ball. She tried to get me away from you earlier on.”

“And still, she let me stay and did not expel me or throw me into the fountain. I think that’s more than positive.”

Draco grinned, then decided it was stupid to stand there and get a neck-cramp from looking up all the time.

“Step back; I am coming up.”

There was a conveniently placed trellis he could use as a ladder. It ended a little ways below the balcony, but Hermione held out a hand and helped him up the last few inches.

“What are you doing here?” she enquired when they finally stood face to face.

Her face was flushed, and her eyes were just as alive and intriguing as they had been the whole evening.

“Finding out what happened on the dance floor,” Draco responded. “Because something happened and I don’t know what it was quite yet.”

From inside, Professor McGonagall’s voice could be heard.

“Hermione?”Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Wait here!” she murmured.

“Give it fifteen minutes. I need to have a cup of herbal tea with her. She has a solid routine, and when she’s gone to bed, she’ll sleep like a stone. But if I don’t go, she’ll become aware something’s different.”

She walked towards the door and turned around again:

“Don’t you dare to run off again!”

Draco waited patiently. It was a beautiful light, and as they were in the middle of nowhere in the Scottish countryside, the stars shone brightly even though dawn was already approaching. He couldn’t help but wonder how it was even possible that Hermione not only didn’t despise and hate him but that she seemed to be returning his feelings.

She returned quicker than he had expected, stepping up next to him.

“It’s a beautiful night,” she said, following his gaze to the sky.

“And you’re a beautiful woman” he said, taking in her face, now unmasked.

She had always been attractive in his eyes, but he had never admitted to himself to think of her in that way. After all, she was one of the Golden Trio. And he was an outcast— not so much that he was shunned openly, but he saw the people whispering in the streets when he was doing his shopping in Diagon Alley. He saw them drag their children away from him. He knew he would never get a promotion at the ministry because he was a former Death Eater. And he knew he deserved all of it, all of the hatred and the distrust. And now he stood on Hermione Granger’s balcony and instead of attacking him with a bat bogey hex, she smiled at him and seemed quite at ease.

“Harry proposed to me tonight,” she said suddenly.

“What? Who?” He wasn’t quite sure he had understood her correctly.

“That guy I was dancing with? It turns out it was Harry in disguise. I should have noticed. He was always a massively shitty dancer.”

They both laughed heartily at that.

“I should have noticed it was you on the dance floor, yet I didn’t,” Draco said , carefully placing a hand on her waist.

“Well, we never danced together before,” she shrugged.

“But I wanted to… so badly,” he murmured. “At the Yule Ball. I think there was not a single boy in the room who wouldn’t have given his right leg to dance with you then. Most of them were afraid of Krum, I guess. But with all of my friends in the same room, I just couldn’t ask you without ruining my reputation.”

“And I’d probably have hexed you in response,” Hermione said.

“Or slapped me across the face again.”

“I am sorry about that.”

“Don’t be; it was well deserved.”

They stood there in silence for a while, the Gryffindor girl and the Slytherin boy, grown up to be adults now in a world that was still relatively the same despite going through  two Wizarding Wars. She was leaning against the railing, and he had his arms around her midriff pulling her close, burying his nose in her brown hair that had started to become curly again after the smoothing spell was wearing off.

“So… should I leave you now and meet you tomorrow?” he suddenly asked and took a step away from her.

She stared at him in disbelief.

“Draco Malfoy; you are astonishing.”

“How’s that?”

“I know that the wizarding world is a bit  old-fashioned in this and your lot are even worse than the rest, but does anybody really do this whole courtship thing?”

Draco uncomfortably stepped from one foot to the other.

“Well… yeah. Because otherwise, it looks as if I’m like Blaise.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re not like Blaise. His reputation is enough to make no woman ever consider him as a partner. Same goes for Theo. Especially after the disgusting display he put on with Emmeline tonight. You’ve only had one relationship with Pansy… and a seriously weird crush on Luna Lovegood from what I heard. But the Daily Prophet never ran a feature titled: _‘Draco Malfoy – How Bad is the Bad Boy Really?’_ that had statistics of your conquests of the last 48 months. And I really don’t want you to go away now. I have no clue what tomorrow will bring and where we will go from here. But right here and right now, I am not going to let you leave.”

She grinned, took his hand and pulled him towards the door to her bedroom.

“And I have no interest in your old-fashioned ways. Forget your upbringing and do whatever the fuck you want to do with me.”

Draco stared at her.

“Wow,” he muttered.

She raised a brow questioningly.

“Hermione Granger, you just used the word ‘fuck’ which I thought was not even part of your vocabulary. I am seriously turned on now.”

She laughed that wide, open laugh again that he had fallen for a few hours earlier and put her hands around his neck, pushing her body against his making it impossible to ignore just how turned on he was.

“I am friends with Ron Weasley. Don’t you think I picked up my share of swear words on the way? I know a lot more of them, if that convinces you to stay” she said suggestively, slightly shifting her hips.

Draco cursed extensively before he kissed her again. Then he pushed her through the door and inside.

 

 

**To say it with the bard: "ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL"**

**Author's Note:**

> This was beta'd by the wonderful AlexandraO (thank you so much!)  
> Also, while I was writing this, I seriously contemplated breaking my own "no smut" rule and there's definite potential for a smutty epilogue coming your way as well as a Harry/Luna spin-off because I feel really bad for Harry now.


End file.
